by Lynda Aicher
“No!”
“What’s wrong with me?” She begged for an answer, barely hearing his adamant denial.
“Kendra.” His sharp commanding tone had her jerking back to look at him. His jaw was held tight, but his eyes fired a conviction at her. “There is nothing wrong with you. Or with what you want.”
“But why do I want this? Why in the hell would I find pleasure in being beaten?”
“That’s where you’ve got it wrong,” he insisted. “There is no pleasure in being beaten. That’s an act of violence. And I would never be violent toward you. No real Dom would. The pleasure comes in submitting and trusting. In finding release in the freedom you get from letting go. The pain only heightens the feelings, releases the endorphins and reaffirms the trust you’ve given away.”
“But I like the pain.”
“And there is nothing wrong with that. We all like different things. Some people hate chocolate or bacon. Can you believe that?”
She smiled at the look of complete disbelief on his face and swerve in conversation. “No,” she answered around a small laugh. “I can’t believe that.”
“Do you think they’re weird?”
She laughed again. “Yes.”
“Do you think they care what you think?”
“No.”
“And will your opinion of them make them suddenly start liking chocolate?”
“No.”
“Exactly,” he said with triumph. “So just because someone finds your enjoyment of pain to be weird doesn’t mean it’s something you can change. It’s simply who you are. It’s part of your make-up. And Kendra...” He paused to lean in. “It’s okay.” He pulled back, a grin of pure conviction displaying his dimple and matching the belief in his eyes.
“Wow,” she breathed as she tried to process his logic. “Just...wow.”
As if to underscore his point, a loud wail pierced the room to echo above the other sounds as a submissive found release. The cry was edged with that heightened mix of pain and pleasure that only an ear trained to catch it could hear. Or one familiar with the sensations being experienced.
His dimple showed when he touched under her chin to close her gaping mouth. “It’s not that hard to grasp when you think of it like that.”
“No,” she managed to agree. It felt like a leaden weight had been lifted from her chest. “I guess it’s not.”
“You are who you are. It’s as simple as that.” He tapped her on the nose, causing her to blink and pull back, shooting him a glare. “The hard part is accepting who you are. But once you do, life becomes easier.” With that, he slid her legs around until her feet landed on the smooth surface of the hardwood floor. “You ready to get changed?” He rubbed her arms through the blanket and planted a kiss just below her ear.
“Yeah,” she agreed as she stood, his hands remaining on her hips until he was sure she was steady. She stepped away and went to pick up her clothing and shoes. To say she was reeling from the events of that night would be an understatement.
She was completely muddled on the inside, so many emotions and thoughts being processed after all that had happened and been said. But under it all was a dawning sense of clarity.
She straightened, stopping to stare into the mirror. Around her the world revolved just like it had when she’d entered the Dungeon. Acts of Dominance and submission played out all over the room, interspersed with sadism and masochism. There were those who enjoyed giving the pain, and matched with them were the ones who enjoyed receiving the pain. Those who needed to dominate and those who needed to submit.
She scanned from one Scene to the next and realized she saw nothing wrong. The sight of a submissive bent in half, hands bound to ankles, her ass bright red from her Master’s paddling was still beautiful to her.
Deklan stepped up behind her and followed her focus to the Scene displayed in the mirror. “You looked better than that,” he murmured into her ear.
That made her smile. “You’re just biased.”
“True,” he chuckled. “But I don’t lie.”
She leaned back, liking the feel of him holding her. Her clothes were bundled in a pile against her chest under the blanket and she paused a moment to just take him in. His short hair was still damp, his face rugged, hard and so uniquely handsome.
“Why didn’t you come on me?”
He met her odd question with complete seriousness. “I told you, you deserve better than that.”
Her brows drew together. “I don’t get it.”
He started a gentle massage on her shoulders, her muscles almost groaning under his kneading fingers. “From your perception, why do Masters usually do that?”
“It’s a show of dominance and ownership. The Master marking his property.”
“And how would that make you feel right now, in front of all these people?”
Her gaze shot to the people behind them and her stomach clenched into a hard knot as understanding dawned. Oh my God. How had he known? She looked back to him and whispered, “Used.”
“That’s why.”
His blue eyes held hers, and she had to look away from the intensity before the tears started. He was getting to her, but not in a bad way. He was making her wish and hope for dreams she’d abandoned years ago.
“Thank you.” The session was ending much the same as it had started, with the two of them standing before the mirror, him big and solid behind her. Supporting her. He was strong, full of muscle and strength that could easily harm her if he chose to.
And that was the key. If he chose to.
Yet another thing that distinguished him from Eric.
“You’re bigger than he was,” she said out of the blue, catching Deklan’s attention. She smiled at his hesitant look, as if he wasn’t sure how to respond. That he was okay showing that said a lot. “But I’m not afraid of you. I should be, but I’m not.”
“Good,” he said, refocusing on massaging her shoulders and upper arms. “I don’t want you to ever be afraid of me.”
Deklan was bigger than her ex in both size and build. Eric had been just a touch taller than her, a fact he’d always resented. She’d never been allowed to wear heels with him because he didn’t like being shorter than her.
Again with the hindsight, she could see Eric’s insecurities that festered behind his over-confident front. The fine gloss of refined Harvard graduate with Daddy’s money and family prestige was only a cover for the angry, cold man that was his true self. A man she’d foolishly thought she could help or change or...heal. But then, a person had to want to change, and Eric would never admit that he had problems let alone need to change.
No, he blamed all of the problems on Kendra.
Even with her counseling experience—maybe because of it—she’d believed she could make a difference and had subsequently created excuses for all of his failings. Hers too.
With more confidence than she’d had since fleeing Eric, Kendra stepped into her new commitment with an open mind and a lighter heart. This was okay. She was okay.
Or at least she was working on it. Eric couldn’t scare her anymore. Damn him and his letter and his threats.
“I know our contract says once a week, but...” She had to pause and wet her lips, her arms tightening around her bundle of clothes to draw the blanket closer. “Can we meet again on Tuesday? I think...I think I’d like another session.”
He turned her then so she was held in the circle of his arms, his eyes both warm and commanding. “I’ll see you at nine.”
Chapter Fourteen
A chilled wind smacked against Deklan’s back, rushing around his neck in a failed attempt to force him back indoors. Not gonna happen. The air was so cold that morning that each exhale left puffs of clouds in front of his face. He’d take the cold any day over the sweltering, life-sucking heat of the desert.
Deklan braced his leg on the lower rung of the wood fence that bordered the condo complex and leaned forward, letting the motion stretch the back of his leg.
The pull was good, reminding of times he would have killed to have the luxury of stretching his cramped muscles. His knee popped, and he grimaced at the bite of pain and the sharp reminder of how lucky he was to be out of active duty with only minimal injuries. He knew too many good soldiers who hadn’t been so lucky.
He jogged in place for a moment, his muscles warming up, and swung his arms, searching for that tug across his shoulder blades and chest. Doing a few more stretches, he wondered how long he could drag out the tasks. It was hit or miss if he’d catch Kendra. But given the day, the odds were pretty good that she’d be out around this time. Even though she probably thought her schedule wasn’t consistent.
A few moments later he spotted Kendra making her way through the condo parking lot toward the entrance of the path where he waited. The tightness across his shoulder blades that hadn’t eased with his stretches now loosened as he appreciated her sleek form. The colder weather had forced her to put the warmer gear on, like he had. The blue spandex running pants hugged her legs, showing off their slim form and making them appear a mile long. The matching jacket zipped up the front and molded over her breasts and arms.
She smiled when she saw him, a short wave that matched the sway of her ponytail. Slowing as she reached him, she didn’t question his presence. “Hi,” she said before starting into her own pre-run stretches.
“Hey,” he responded, working to keep his voice casual. She didn’t need to know that he’d planned this meeting. “Just heading out?”
“Yeah.” She leaned forward, and he caught the wince that she wasn’t able to hide.
He sobered. “How you feeling today?” They’d had a pretty intense session two days ago and it appeared that Kendra was still tender from the caning she’d requested. He hadn’t gone easy, having learned over the last three weeks that her pain tolerance was fairly high. A fact that pleased the sadist in him while oddly disturbing the man in him.
She shot him a tight smile. “Good. Just a little sore.”
“Was it too rough last time?” Damn. He’d been careful. Had he missed one of her signs? Seeing her wince like that didn’t bring the usual rush of pleasure that came with knowing he’d been the one to give a sub that lingering pain.
She made a quick glance around before straightening to pull an arm across her body to stretch her triceps and shoulder blades. “No. It was fine.” She kept her eyes diverted, staring down the running path. “I’d have told you if it wasn’t.”
He stepped closer, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Would you, Kendra? Honestly?” He wanted to believe her. There was no way they could continue their sessions if he couldn’t trust her to halt a Scene for any reason.
“Yes, Deklan. I would.” She didn’t back down. But how she addressed him took him back to the Dungeon, pleasing him in a way that shouldn’t be appropriate outside of that space.
“Good.” He turned to the fence and leaned on the rail and repeated his leg stretches, yanking his head out of his ass while he did it. He’d been tempted right then to cup her face and kiss her senseless, but he couldn’t do that. She was only a contract sub, not someone he could kiss at will anywhere. Even if he wanted to. “Do you mind if I run with you?”
Her head snapped around at his question, her eyes boring into him, searching for something. He kept his attention on his task and pretended not to notice her hesitation. He hoped she’d say yes but would respect her answer if she said no.
When her consent finally came, it was low and quiet. “Sure.”
They started off at a steady pace that was slower than Deklan usually ran, but he didn’t mind. He matched her stride and let the rhythm of their shoes hitting the pavement beat out a tune that was solid and soothing. He inhaled, the cool air hitting his lungs with a punch, and let her lead, taking the paths and trail system that she wanted, oddly content for the moment to follow her lead.
They completed their run in silence, the quiet of the morning broken only by their measured breaths and the occasional other jogger. Based on the consistency and frequency of Kendra’s run, he suspected she needed them just like he did. Running was like an addicting drug to him. His body and mind started to go through their own version of withdrawals when he didn’t get his fix.
His jogs had become a solitary event since he’d left the service and he was surprised to find that he’d missed the sound of another’s rhythm matching his own. She’d been coming to the club two to three times a week since their contract started and in that short time he’d begun to anticipate their sessions with a growing desire until it felt like he needed their Scenes as much as she did.
There was no denying the connection they’d had since the beginning. One that grew stronger each time they were together. For the first time ever he was seeking the company of a sub outside of the club in the bizarre desire of learning more about her. He wasn’t probing that feeling any deeper than the skimming pass he’d given it as he’d set his alarm last night to ensure he’d be up in time to “bump into” Kendra this morning.
She started to ease up on the pace, indicating she’d reached her cool-down phase. “You can keep going,” she panted, gesturing to the path ahead of them. She’d taken the park loop, a good six-mile route, at a decent clip. Normally he’d go a little farther, but today he was content to stay with her.
“I’m good.”
Her lips thinned at his response, but she didn’t say anything more. Gradually she slowed to a fast walk as they circled back to where they’d started. The path had been fairly empty that morning, even though it was nearing ten o’clock. He was guessing that the sudden dip in the temperature after their two-week warm spell had kept most people back indoors.
“How long you been running?” he asked, pulling on his arms to stretch them as they continued to walk.
She shrugged, her hands resting on her hips. “Since I was a teen. Maybe earlier. I joined the track team in junior high as something to do besides going home and fell in love with the distance running. Then I found cross country and haven’t stopped since.” She looked to him. “You?”
He gave a little laugh. “I didn’t start until the Army made me. Hated it at first. Hated everything about the military in the beginning, but once I finally stopped resisting and started experiencing I learned to enjoy both.”
“What made you join then?”
An innocent question, and he debated his answer briefly before giving her the truth. “I didn’t have a choice. It was either the service or jail. The army sounded like the better option.”
When she didn’t ask for more details, his respect for her went up another level. Most people would instinctually dig for more dirt, but then he suspected she had a healthy appreciation for secrets. There weren’t a lot of people who knew his past simply because there weren’t that many who needed to know.
“When did you leave the military?”
“About six years ago.”
“Miss it?”
He gave it some honest thought before answering. “Some parts, yeah. Most parts, no.” Their pace had slowed to a walk, their breathing returning to normal by now. He took a deep breath, welcoming the way his lungs expanded and ached with that pleasant twinge that came at the end of a good workout. He let the crisp scent of the cold fill him before exhaling. “I miss the camaraderie, but not the war and death.”
She shot him a glance. “I can understand that.” She waited until another jogger passed, then asked, “So why the club? I mean, other than you like being a Dom?”
He puffed out a short laugh. “That was one reason. But the main one is that Seth and Jake were involved.” Revealing details of his life to Kendra, even little ones, was hard. The more someone knew, the more ammo they had. Information equaled vulnerability, and being vulnerable wasn’t his thing.
“You’re not brothers, are you?”
He shook his head. “Not biologically. But I’m closer to them than my real family. The three of us survived a lot together when we were kids. And you? Any family?”
Her back straightened at his question, the relaxed posture immediately gone. “Don’t you know that?” The tightness in her voice told him she didn’t like that he might.
“No,” he told her. “The background checks done by the club don’t dig into family history. I know you have a good credit history. Have never been arrested but have a penchant of speeding, with three tickets in the past five years. You’re from Chicago and have a degree in Human Development and used to work as a middle school counselor before leaving that job two years ago. In Chicago, you were a member of the fetish club Scarlet Letter for four years. You moved here last June, have worked at Target since July and rent the condo unit you live in using money from your trust fund.”
She’d stopped at some point during his admission to stare at him, her mouth slightly ajar.
He faced her and held back the smile that wanted to form, knowing she wouldn’t appreciate it. “The security at the club is staffed with ex-military. There isn’t much we can’t find out, but a lot we don’t need to know. Every member signs off on the background checks.”
She gave her head a shake as if clearing her thoughts then sputtered, “I...I know that. I just didn’t realize it was quite that extensive.” She scanned him head to toe, her hands still propped on her hips. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“No. I only thought it was fair that you know exactly what I did know about you. Anything more than that, it’s up to you to tell me.”
“Right.” She studied him again as if seeing him in a different light. Only he couldn’t tell if it was a good one or not. “That’s really kind of scary.”
He shrugged. “It’s not that much more than can be found by anyone on the internet anymore. Most people just don’t know how to find it.”
“Like I said, scary.” Her eyes look wary, but not frightened or mad. The relief let him breathe again as she turned and resumed walking. “Big Brother really is watching us, huh?”